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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27050320">Slip, Slip, Knit</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdenaWolf/pseuds/AdenaWolf'>AdenaWolf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Legend of Zelda &amp; Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>4+1 Things, 5+1 Things, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Modified 5+1 Things, Post-Game(s), fears</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:02:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,089</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27050320</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdenaWolf/pseuds/AdenaWolf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Slip, Slip, Knit: a knitting technique where the knitter slips two stitches without working on them and then knits them together.</p><p>4 Times Link and Zelda hid their fears from each other, and one time they shared them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>109</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Slip, Slip, Knit</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <b>Rejection</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Hopefully, she can’t see the way his hands are shaking.</p><p>...She probably can. She’s observant and sharp. He remembers that. There’s not much that slips past her senses, totally keen in a way that has nothing to do with battle-training. </p><p>With or without Farore’s Courage, Link’s undoubtedly afraid.</p><p>Not anxious, not nervous, but honest to goddesses scared.  And it’s not like that’s unusual in and of itself—one didn’t face evil incarnate in a battle for the soul of the world without feeling some sense of dread. He’s under no false-pretense that courage is the absence of fear, and he knows that he’s allowed to feel his feelings.</p><p>Of course, it’s not usually tea that makes his insides twist into knots. </p><p>Link puts his cup to his lips, breathing in the sharp mint-scented steam as he watches the woman sitting across from him. He touches the hot ceramic to his mouth as she does, feeling how it trembles against his lips. </p><p>He doesn’t drink from it; he’s never been a fan of mint. </p><p>Zelda, however, smiles as she takes a sip. Her smile is crooked and shy, but the way her eyes sparkle gives away her pleasure. </p><p>He’s never been a fan of mint...but she is.  </p><p>And he remembered. <em> He remembered,</em> which makes him just as much her friend now as he was a century ago. Or...so he hopes. </p><p>It’s not <em>just  </em>that she’s the only person from his former life that’s still around! He isn’t so shallow that he’s hoarding her for nostalgia’s sake. He’d <em>liked  </em>the Zelda he remembers, and he’d been so excited to rescue her. </p><p>The only problem is that while she doesn’t seem to have changed at all, Link knows that he has. He built his personality back from nothing, and from the surprised looks he sometimes gets not only from Zelda but also from the Zora who remember him...It doesn’t seem like he’d put the puzzle back together the same way. </p><p>Which is fine—Link likes who he is now. </p><p>But...will she?</p><p>He puts his cup down as Zelda takes another long sip, matches her smile and moves one hand under the table so she can’t see him fiddle nervously. </p><p>“I thought you didn’t like mint?” she asks, genuine curiosity coating her tone.</p><p>Link shrugs in response, trying to keep his face casual while he looks anywhere other than her eyes. “You like it though...right?”</p><p>“I do, it’s one of my favourites. Not only is it quite refreshing, but when brewed in a tea like this, it has several medicinal effects! For example...”</p><p>He takes a sip as she talks,  forcing himself to swallow the vile tasting leaf-water. </p><p>If it makes her like him the way she did before, he’ll learn to like it.</p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <b>Disappointment</b>
</p><p> </p><p>He’ll never have to know if she’s quick. </p><p>Unless...what would be worse: that he knew that she had tried despite failing, or that he thought she forgot entirely?</p><p>For all Nayru’s wisdom (Hylia’s blessing seemingly already deserting her), Zelda doesn’t know. </p><p>On the one hand, she’s not even sure if Link <em> knows </em> it’s his birthday. They hadn’t discussed it, much like how they hadn’t addressed the Calamity or his Death or the pictures she’d left for him. She doesn’t want to upset him by bringing it up, and so she hasn’t asked in place of an apology for failing him before. </p><p>So maybe he doesn’t know, and thus won’t be disappointed.</p><p>But...</p><p>But what if he <em> does </em> know. Someone, Impa or Purah or Robbie—or even one of his Zora friends could have told him. He could have found a record of it in the Castle Library, or perhaps there was a historian’s descendant that would have mentioned it. </p><p>Again, they hadn’t discussed it, so she doesn’t know. </p><p>And if he <em> does </em> know, he’ll be upset if he thinks she <em> didn’t </em> know. And she can’t...he doesn’t deserve to be let down by her again!</p><p>She’s still deciding, glaring at the misshapen garment in her hands when he walks through the door.  His cheerful humming may as well be a bucket of ice water for the effect it has—every muscle in her body tightening painfully. </p><p>He takes off his boots. She shoves the basket of yarn back to its corner. </p><p>He’s walking up the stairs. She grabs the nearest book and opens it randomly.</p><p>His wild, sandy hair is just visible over the railing. She’s still holding the blasted thing.</p><p>Completely in panic, Zelda does the first thing she thinks of. </p><p>The hat she’d been attempting to knit for the past month flies out the open window. It lands in a heap in the garden,  too full of holes to be caught by the breeze.</p><p>Her face flushes when he catches her reading the book upside down, but he seems to swallow the lie she spins about how she was just challenging herself. At the very least, she gets a teasing smile instead of a suspicious glare.</p><p>It turns out that he doesn’t know it’s his birthday, so she surprises him with the information. They make a cake together, flour and sugar coating the kitchen, their clothes and their faces. Link claims it’s the best birthday he’s ever had, and Zelda’s too relieved to wonder how many others he remembers.</p><p>She waits until the middle of the night to retrieve her failed project, sneaking out of bed by pretending she needs a glass of water. </p><p>The <em>thing </em>she retrieves looks (somehow) worse in the moonlight—lopsided, hopelessly twisted, full of holes and dropped stitches. Now she can see that it’s also much too big: it could easily cover Link’s entire face! </p><p>Rationally, Zelda knows that Link wouldn’t mind. He’d keep it, treasure it because he received it from her, and probably even <em>wear  </em>it. Then, when she gifts him a better version, he would proudly display both hats together and praise her on how much she’s improved. </p><p>She knows this. She knows <em>him</em>. All the evidence points <em>away  </em>from him being upset by her failure.</p><p>Zelda throws the worthless pile of knotted threads in the fire, anyway.</p><p>No matter how unlikely, she won’t risk disappointing him.</p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <b>Cuccos</b>
</p><p> </p><p>He’s heard some insane ideas and done some crazy things over the years, but none of that could have prepared him for this.</p><p>Zelda coos at the blasted thing, stroking its feathers as it sits on her lap. Cado is ecstatic, animatedly talking to the young Hylian about each individual bird. </p><p>Link stands stoically next to the fence with his arms crossed. He’s counted exactly how many birds are in the pen, their proximity to himself, and calculated how fast he’ll need to move to escape. His focus is mainly on keeping his breathing steady and his hands off his sword. </p><p>The last thing he wants to do is anger the Cuccos. </p><p>Relief coats his body when Zelda gently dislodges the bird from its place, and bids farewell to each Cucco by name. But he doesn’t fully relax until they’re on their horses and out of Kakariko Village. </p><p>He’s cutting carrots for dinner while she writes, his back turned away from her, so she doesn’t see the storm of fear cross his face. Only his instincts keep him from losing a finger. </p><p>“Come again?”</p><p>“Well, it’s just that we have a lot of space, and it’s not like we have any pressing goals—”</p><p>“So you want to use our downtime to raise <em> Cuccos?! </em>” Link places the knife on the cutting board and turns around, raising an eyebrow to pretend he’s just curious.  </p><p>Zelda nods resolutely, her jaw set and a determined smile gracing her lips. Link knows this look, it’s the same looks she gets when she’s on the verge of a breakthrough. Wolves make the same expression right before they strike.</p><p>“Cado says that they aren’t hard to raise, and he’d be happy enough to give us some chicks to start with.”</p><p>He grips the counter behind him tighter with one hand, using the other to speak so that his voice won’t betray his thoughts, “But...why?”</p><p>She waves him over and slides a piece of paper in front of him. He’d thought she’d been writing a letter, but...</p><p>“This is a list of all the benefits of owning Cuccos. For starters, we would save money on eggs. Additionally, when we really get going, we could eat them—”</p><p>Link snaps his head up from the list, blinking rapidly. “You’d be okay eating them after raising them?”</p><p>“Of course!” Zelda snorts, “As much as I respect him, Cado is...unhealthily attached to his birds. I don’t plan to make that mistake.”</p><p>On the outside, Link grins at the joke. But internally his mind is spinning, running in circles trying to figure out how to stop this idea in its tracks <em>without  </em>discouraging Zelda entirely, or revealing his personal stake in the matter.</p><p>Zelda rarely asks for anything, and he knows it’s not because she wants. Her whole life she’d been conditioned to push her desires away. She hasn’t gotten what she wanted or deserved in their past life, and with this fresh start, Link honestly wants to give her everything he can.</p><p>She keeps reading the list, but he’s not listening. All he can think about is stepping out of his door and seeing beady black eyes staring at him. Watching. Waiting to Strike. But he can’t think of a reason <em>against  </em>her ideas unless he admits...</p><p>“What...what if,” he starts hesitantly, hoping the idea will form as he speaks, “we spent some time at Cado’s first? Watching over the...his farm. Then we’d know more and be able to make a more informed decision?” </p><p>Zelda’s smile is blinding, but he can’t fully relax into the hugs she traps him in. </p><p>He waits two weeks and then convinces her that a goat is a better purchase. That she agrees so enthusiastically is almost enough to erase his guilt at denying her.</p><p>(Almost.)</p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <b>Mice</b>
</p><p> </p><p>The branch she’s sitting on sways precariously in the wind, and Zelda prays that Link will return soon.</p><p>Not too soon—she needs to find an excuse for why she’s stuck in a tree instead of sitting on their picnic blanket. But soon, because she’s <em>stuck  </em>and would like to get down. </p><p>And his return should scare the mouse away. She hopes. </p><p>Zelda prides herself on being rational. Or at the very least, scientific. She knows that she has nothing to fear from a field-mouse and that she could just as easily scare it away.  Then she looks at its Lynel-like claws, it’s snake-tail and its too-small, too black eyes, and the emotional swell threatens to pitch her out of the tree.</p><p>The tiny brown body is sniffing around their blanket, no doubt searching for the food Link had gone back inside to get. It moves slowly, methodically, but finds nothing.</p><p>Zelda sticks out her tongue in defiance. </p><p>Almost as if on cue, the mouse looks up. Right at her. She stops breathing and tries to push herself into the trunk. </p><p>Clearly, the mouse is possessed, because it ambles carelessly towards her. </p><p>She bites back a scream, clutching the rough bark so tightly that she feels splinters digging into her fingers. The former-princess tracks the tiny body with her eyes until she can’t see it anymore... on account of how it’s now <em>climbing the tree she’s sitting in! </em></p><p>Instinct takes over, and Zelda isn’t fully aware of what’s happened until she feels all the air in her body escape rather forcefully. From her new vantage point, she sees the mouse scurry up into a knot in the tree, and the feeling of relief allows her to fill her lungs with hair again. </p><p>The goddesses must be smiling down on her because it’s not until she’s sitting back on the blanket—dutifully ignoring her sore back—that Link comes outside.  If he notices her tousled hair, the red marks on her palms, or how she’s now sitting facing the tree instead of leaning against it, he doesn’t say anything. </p><p>When Ivee’s cat has kittens, Zelda brings home two of them. Her official excuse is that “royal tradition” claims that cats are guardians against evil spirits, and they need all the help they can get. Link is mystified, obviously not believing her in the slightest, but smiles warmly at her, anyway.</p><p>(She lets him name them as a pseudo-apology for the lie.)</p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <b>Thunderstorms</b>
</p><p> </p><p>It’s the sound that wakes him, vibrating his bones and echoing so violently in his mind that he thinks he’s going to be sick.  His hand finds the dagger next to the bed on its own accord, eyes adjusting to the darkness faster than his mind can process what he’s looking for. </p><p>Link gets carefully to his feet, the cool wood a sharp contrast to his sweaty feet. Slowly, he stalks towards the railing, footfalls silent to not alert whatever intruder is threatening his house. </p><p>(Crime isn’t something he worries about here in Hateno, but that’s not to say it hasn’t ever happened. After all, the Yiga are still around.)</p><p>Lightning flashes just as he looks into the kitchen, illuminating the empty first floor. </p><p>...The mostly empty first floor.</p><p>Zelda is sitting next to the dying fire, cocooned in blankets. In his panic, Link hadn’t even noticed she hadn’t been in bed beside him. </p><p>Another growl of thunder shakes the house, triggering a sharp pain in Link’s chest. He doesn’t quite suppress his flinch or the sharp inhale that accompanies it. Zelda doesn’t seem to have seen him yet, something that he’s thankful for as he puts his knife down on the desk. He doesn’t want her to see how disquieted something as natural as a thunderstorm makes him. </p><p>When he’s sure that his trembling is under control, and he can project the strength and calmness he doesn’t feel, he makes his way down to the pile of blankets. For all that he’s trying to make noise, Zelda jumps at his approach. </p><p>“Sorry,” he whispers, barely louder than the steady pounding of rain on the roof.</p><p>The pile of blankets shakes its head in response.</p><p>And Link... Link doesn’t know what to do next. He didn’t exactly have a plan when he came down, and...</p><p>Twin Hylian shivers respond to the next flare of lightning, and he decides that rebuilding the fire is as good a next step as any. </p><p>It takes the warrior several more minutes than typical to get the fire roaring. Every strike of Thunder or blinding flash of lightning forces him to pause and attempt to control his breathing, or drop the flint, or strike his finger instead of the flammable stone. </p><p>Finally, a warm orange glow spreads through the room. It doesn’t settle his nerves any more than it chases the frozen feeling from his bones. </p><p>“Are we going to talk about it?”</p><p>Zelda’s voice is small and hesitant, like a nervous child. Link shifts his weight but doesn’t turn around.</p><p>“...Do you want to?” he counters, matching her tone.</p><p>What ‘it’ is goes unspoken. They both know why they’re awake, why the thunder and lightning cause this reaction. In the year since Ganon’s defeat, they’ve had their share of nightmares. Each has seen the other at their lowest, fears and insecurities leftover from more than a century of trauma. </p><p>They’ve never spoken of it, never admitted how deeply the tendrils of darkness run or how tightly it curls around their hearts. </p><p>“No,” she admits breathlessly, “but...I think we need to. I think that...that maybe it would help us to...”</p><p>He considers her words even as her thoughts trail off. He considers how much he most certainly <em>does not  </em>want to talk about it. Entertains the idea of claiming that there’s nothing wrong, of keeping things exactly as they are. </p><p>A resounding boom interrupts his thoughts, and the responding whimper from behind him turns his head sharply to its source. Somehow, Zelda has curled herself into a smaller ball, so tense underneath her blankets he’s certain she’s in pain.</p><p>For all that he’s scared, scared of admitting his shortcomings and potentially losing his best friend...he knows that she’s right. He could live his life in denial if he was the only one suffering but, he’s not. Even if he can’t do it for himself, he knows that doing it for her is less of a daunting task.</p><p>(He doesn’t know she’s thinking the same thing.)</p><p>“Move Over.”</p><p>Zelda peeks over her knees and shoots him a watery smile, shifting so that there’s an opening in the blankets. Link scoots over to her, snuggling close and wrapping the blanket securely around them. From here, he can feel her trembling, clammy skin afflicted with violent tremors.</p><p>“....did you know I’m scared of Cuccos?” he whispers, wrapping his own shaking arm around her shoulders.</p><p>He hears a snort beside him. “Cuccos?”</p><p>“I was attacked, once, as a child. I’d accidentally hit it with a slingshot, and suddenly I swear hundreds of birds piled on me. I don’t even know where they all came from—my family only had two birds!” </p><p>Zelda leans into him, humming disbelievingly.</p><p>“And,” Link continues, resting his cheek against her head, “as an experiment, I once threw one into a bokoblin camp. It was wild!” he defends at her scandalized gasp, “so it wouldn’t be missed. And just like what happened to me, one second there was a single Cucco and the next...” </p><p>The girl leaning against him relaxes slightly, poking him playfully in the stomach. </p><p>“I’ll show you,” he promises, “we’ll go out when the weather clears and find a wild one. There’s bound to be some monster camps left somewhere, and then you can see for yourself.”</p><p>“I’ll have to bring my journal and the slate,” she says, and Link hears the smile in her voice, “to fully document your supposed findings.”</p><p>A couple of seconds pass in comfortable silence before Zelda pipes up again.</p><p>“I’m scared of spiders,” she mumbles, “and mice, and wasps. Sometimes, for a second, I’ll hear something buzz, or I’ll see a tuft of fur blow across the floor and panic before I realize what it is.”</p><p>Link hums in acknowledgement, listening as she talks about how a visiting noble accidentally disturbed an entire nest of mice into the library.</p><p>They pass the whole storm like that, curled up together, cracking open the door to their hearts one story at a time.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>There are two things I love in this world: all my fictional children and obscure, fibre-crafting references. </p><p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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